


Sick Day(s)

by dreamofalamprey



Series: John and Pip [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a GOOD DAD, Dating, Gen, Graduate Students AU, Hurt/Comfort, John Laurens Has Self-Worth Issues, Law Students AU, M/M, Modern AU, Sick Fic, Sick John, Sick Philip, Single Dad Alexander Hamilton, Vomiting, parenting, stomach flu, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofalamprey/pseuds/dreamofalamprey
Summary: John takes care of a sick Philip. Soonafter, Alexander takes care of a sick John. Fluffy AF folks brace yourselves





	1. Chapter 1

John stared blearily at the book on his lap. He'd been staring at the same sentence for ten minutes now, and still had yet to read a word. This was typical. Just when his day off from work rolled around, his normally high level of enthusiasm for his studies had bottomed down to zero. Just when he was asking himself whether or not it was  _really_ worth it to keep putting himself through this, his phone buzzed beside him. He welcomed the distraction. 

John picked up the phone, and swiped to see a text from Alexander. 

_Hey. Are you busy?_

He furrowed his eyebrows. He might not be working today, but Alexander definitely was. He typed out a reply. 

_Not really. What's up?_

As soon as the 'read' icon appeared beneath the message, the phone began to vibrate. John put it to his ear. There was no time for greetings as Alexander launched into a panicked explanation. 

"I know it's your day off and I'm sorry and I don't mean to dump this on you but the school just called me and I can't leave work right now because I had to have Lafayette cover for me last week and-"

"Whoa, whoa," said John, getting up off the couch, "calm down. What happened? What do you need?"

"Philip's sick at school and I can't go and get him. Could you pick him up and take him back to our place? I know that's not how you want to spend your day, but I'll be home to take care of it in a couple of hours and I promise I'll make it up to you."

John snorted. 

"Alex, relax. I don't mind taking care of Pip for a bit. Send me the address and I'll be there in five."

He could hear the relief in Alexander's voice. 

 _"Thank you._ Tell him that I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you."

"Love you."

The call ended. John wasted no time grabbing his books and keys before descending the rickety stairs outside his apartment to get to his car. He dumped his stuff in the passenger seat and took a look at the address that Alexander had texted to him.

The school wasn't very far away at all. It was only a couple of minutes before he was pulling into the mostly empty parking lot.

He approached the double-doors of the brick building and pushed them open. The front office was directly across the hall from him. He didn't need to clear his throat or say anything to make his presence known when he walked in; the tiny woman at the desk noticed him right away. 

"What can I do for you?" 

"Uh, hi," said John, "I'm John Laurens. I'm here to pick up Philip Hamilton?"

The woman pursed her lips and clicked something on her computer. 

"Oh, yes," she said, "Mr. Hamilton called and told us that you'd be here. I'll have someone go and get him for you."

She called over her shoulder to a woman sitting at a desk in the corner, who nodded and got up, presumably to collect Philip. 

"Do I need to sign anything or-?" 

Before John could even finish his question, the first woman was holding out a clipboard for him. 

"Thanks."

As he scribbled his name on a printed line next to the date, he could hear the sound of little feet shuffling. He looked up from the paperwork to see Philip coming around the corner. 

"Hey, kid," he said, setting the clipboard down, "heard you weren't feeling so hot." 

Philip shook his head in confirmation. He looked clammy, and John was glad that Alexander was so set on having someone come and get him. John's own father never would never have been so kind when  John was a kid. But that was beside the point. 

"Your dad's still at work, but he sent me to come and get you, is that alright?"

"Mhmm."

"Just one second here-" 

He finished with the sign-out sheet and handed it back over the counter.

"Thank you."

"Of course," said the woman, "thank you for coming in. Feel better, Philip, okay?"

The kid only nodded in response. He came close to John as they walked out, still a little reserved, but not so shy that didn't lean into John's hip when John put a hand on his back to guide him to the car. 

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" he asked, once they were outside, looking down at the kid, "what hurts?"

Philip looked at his feet while they walked. He did that a lot, John knew, and Alexander had been working on "correcting" it. Now, however, didn't seem like the time to say anything. 

"Stomach." 

"That's no good. I'm sorry, Pip. It's just a short ride home, though, and then you can rest, okay? Think you can manage that?" 

Another nod. They were right outside the car. John opened the back door and helped Philip inside, buckling him up in a second-hand carseat that Alexander had "gifted" to him. He'd acted embarrassed about it, but John was touched that Alex trusted him so. 

"Alright," he said, climbing into the driver's seat, "here we go."

 


	2. Chapter 2

He tried making conversation on the way to Alexander's place to distract Philip. It was fairly one-sided, but John was just happy that the kid didn't puke in his car. With any luck, he wouldn't have to deal with anything like that at all.

When they got to the apartment complex where the two Hamiltons lived, he pulled out the key that his boyfriend had given to him to unlock the front door, holding his books under his arm and Philip’s backpack in his free hand. 

“Okay,” he said as he pushed open the door, letting Philip in, “you’ve gotta rest… why don’t you go and change - get some pajamas or something?”

He was winging it, but Philip nodded his head and obliged, pattering slowly down the hall to his bedroom. John set the backpack by the door and took his books to the coffee table. He vaguely considered going into the bathroom in search of something to give Philip, but held off. It was hard to tell exactly what was wrong with him - if anything at all - and he figured it was better to just wait and see.  

He shot a text to Alex telling him that they were home and slid his phone into his pocket. He saw Philip edging out of his room, swaying back and forth, looking nervous despite it being his own house. John knew that he was waiting for direction. 

“Wanna lay down on the couch with me?”

Philip gave a tiny nod in response. 

“Should I go and get some blankets so you’ll be more comfortable?”   
“Mhmm.”

“Yeah? Okay, you sit down, I’ll go and get some - one second here-”

He ducked into Alexander's bedroom to grab what he needed. When he returned to the living room, he unfolded they and wrapped them loosely around the little boy on the sofa. 

"C'mere," he said, sitting down and guiding Philip down gently so he could rest his head on John's leg. 

He put his hand on Philip's shoulder and thumbed gentle little circles, hoping it would make him relax. It seemed to work, as he felt the kid's breathing slow until he drifted to sleep. John didn't stop, or pick up his books when it happened. He simply held still and thanked whatever higher power had made this easy on him. 

* * *

 

It was only about a half an hour of that quiet, though, until John felt Philip shift in his lap, squeezing his eyes tighter and recoiling under the blankets. John looked down at him and touched his head, concerned when the kid let out an audible whimper. 

“You doing okay down there?” 

Philip whined again, trying to get up from the tangle of blankets. His voice was thick, and John could tell he was trying to hold in tears, and fighting a losing battle, at that.

“Philip?”

The kid shuddered next to him, working very hard to repress noises of discomfort.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, looking up at John, panic flooding his voice.  

He swallowed hard. 

“I think-”

Whatever was supposed to come next was lost in the sound of gagging. Before John could do anything to stop it, Philip was pitching forward and throwing up onto the sheets before him. What wasn’t contained on the blankets spilled onto John’s jeans, and he couldn’t help but curse at the feeling.

“Ah, shit-” 

Of course, it only took him a matter of seconds to remind himself that that was the least of his worries right now. It was one of those unfortunate times where he had to be the grown-up and put the issue of the vomit on his clothes aside so he could attend to the sick kid beside him, who had started to cry out of either hurt or fear that John was upset. 

_Nice going, Laurens._

He balled up the soiled blankets and tossed them onto the floor before reaching over to pick Philip up from under the arms.

“It’s alright, buddy,” he said, standing up from the couch as Philip cried into his shoulder, “it’s okay."

It took a couple of minutes for Philip to calm down, eventually just sputtering quietly in John's hold.

"Do you still feel like you're gonna throw up?"

Philip shook his head, sniffling. John couldn't help but notice a second's hesitation. He grabbed the wastebasket from beside Alex's desk (the living room also doubled as his study) and set it in front of the couch, where he sat Philip back down. 

"Can you use this if you do?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good, okay." 

John turned to pick up the blankets, but stopped when he heard Philip's small voice again. 

"Where are you going?" 

He sounded so hurt, John couldn't help but feel guilty on the spot. 

"I'm just gonna go get something to make your belly feel better. I'll be right back.”

This answer didn't stop tears from springing to Philip's eyes once again. 

"Please stay." 

His voice sounded the littlest it had ever been. John sighed. 

"Look, Pip, I'll only be a second. I gotta take care of the sheets, okay?"

Philip lowered his eyes, face reddening at the mention of the mess. 

"Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," he said, kneeling down beside Philip and trying to meet his eye, "you couldn't help it, I know. I'm just going to clean up really fast and then I'll be right back here and I'll stay with you as long as you want, okay?"

"Okay."

Trying to make good on his promise, John tousled Philip's hair before getting to his feet and collecting the blankets. He dumped them in the wash with a generous amount of detergent, the popped into Alex's room for a change of clothes. Alex was a little smaller than him, but it didn't matter. All we wanted was something that wasn't covered in sick. He slipped on an old pair of sweatpants, and changed his shirt to, the collar of his old one wet with snot and tears. 

He checked his phone. It was only noon. He groaned. 

It was going to be a long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy idk wtf im doing here but i hope you like more on the way xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

He managed to unearth some children’s flu medicine from underneath the sink. It was that gross, syrupy kind that made him cringe just by looking at it, but he figured it would have to do. A cursory text with Alex told him so. He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and started back into the living room, where he sat down beside Philip, who looked warily at the bottle in his hand.

“I know,” he said, unscrewing it so that he could fill up the cap, “but it’s gonna make you feel better.”

He made sure that the red liquid met the line on the inside of the cup and handed it to Philip, who took it and looked at it with a look of quiet disgust.

“C’mon,” he said, “one big gulp, and then you never have to touch it again.”

That might have been an exaggeration, but John doubted that Philip was going to notice, especially when he was in this state. Regardless, the boy didn’t put up a fight, and downed the contents of the plastic cup in one swallow. He shuddered.

“Attakid,” said John, “here, chase that down with some of this for me-”

He handed Philip the water.

“Go slow, though.”

Philip nodded and took a short swig. His cooperation didn’t seem to matter, though, thirty seconds later when he was scrambling to get up from the couch and running into the bathroom and heaving up everything that John had given him into the toilet. Ignoring the terrible sounds and the sour smell, John joined him and knelt down behind him. He patted the kid’s back gently as he retched and cried, trying to help even though he didn’t know how.

After a couple of minutes of straight vomiting, Philip seemed to catch a break. He panted, and leaned back into John miserably.

“I don’t like this.”

John reached back and grabbed a washcloth from the counter. Trying to be as gentle as possible, he took it across Philip’s forehead and mouth to get rid of all the sweat and vomit.

“I know, kiddo, it sucks. But I’m right here, it’s okay.”

Philip whined and pushed his face into the crook of John’s neck. Of course, he only stayed there for a short time before his stomach betrayed him again and he was forced to turn back to the toilet for another episode.

It went on for a while and didn’t show signs of stopping, but John eventually decided to coax Philip out from the bathroom and back onto the couch. He wasn’t looking forward to washing out the wastebasket, but that was preferable to another minute of sitting on the cold tiled floor with the kid.

John reached forward to flush the toilet and rubbed Philip’s upper arm.

“Let’s go lay back down, alright bud?”

Philip gave a weak nod, and let John pick him up and carry him back to the couch. He didn’t move away from John when he sat down, only repositioning slightly so that he could rest his head on the arm of the sofa. John reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of water, nudging Philip slightly.

“Can you drink this for me?”

Philip looked hesitant. John sighed.

“Just a couple sips? You’re losing a lotta fluids, kid.”

Though he still didn’t look excited about it, Philip accepted the glass and brought it to his lips slowly. He took a few tiny sips, then handed it back to John. Good enough for now. He only prayed that it stayed down.

For once, it seemed fate was on his side. The water did not make a reappearance, but Philip did continue to stir uncomfortably in his lap. 

"Here, Pip, go like this-"

Careful not to jostle the boy lest he further upset his little stomach, John moved so that he and Philip could stretch out along the length of the couch, there heads resting on the edge near the wastebasket. Philip made a little noise, but John quieted him by running his fingers up and down his arm. That was something that his brother would do for him when they were young and he was upset. He hoped silently that it would help. 

It appeared that it did. Or, at least, that Philip didn't dislike it. The next two hours passed slowly, but uneventfully, with the boy only getting up once of twice to be sick or use the bathroom. For the most part, he lay in John's arms, snuggling against his chest, mostly lethargic. 

* * *

 

John must have fallen asleep along with the boy at some point, because he found himself being awoken by the sound of the front door being opened just after four. He opened his eyes and looked over Philip's head, squinting at Alexander as he stepped in through the door. It was a little later than he usually left work, but the grocery bags in his arms explained the lost time. 

"Hey," said John, whispering lest he wake Philip.

"Hi," said Alexander, setting the bags down and coming to meet them, "how's he been?"

John rubbed his eyes.

"He's been sleeping for a bit, but before that he was chuckin' his guts for a while."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows, making a look of concern. 

"Ah no," he said, "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that, I didn't realize-"

John waved this off. 

"It's fine. We were fine."

Their talking seemed to have disturbed the sleeping boy between them, who let out a little breath as he opened his eyes to look at his father. 

"Hey, Pip," said Alexander, "sounds like you've had a rough day, hm?"

Philip nodded his head, shimmying to sit upright. 

"My tummy hurts."

"Still?"

A nod. 

"Oh, my poor boy."

Alexander reached forward to pick up his son and give him a kiss on the forehead. He held him on his hip. John noticed how Philip's eyes were still half-closed, how he slumped against Alexander.

"How about we go and put you in your own bed and I'll come and stay with you? Does that sound okay?"

"Mhmm."

Despite his pity for the boy, John couldn't help but feel a bit of relief as he watched Alexander turn to take Philip back to his bedroom. Even though he'd been spending more and more time with the boy lately, kids still made him nervous. There was always something for him to mess up. 

He got up from the couch and grabbed the grocery sacks that Alexander had set down. He was much more useful at stuff like this. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LISTEN UP:  
> THIS IS SHORT AND BAD BUT I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE PIP FLUFF IN THE COMING CHAPTERS!!! I JUST NEEDED A LITTLE BRIDGE OK!!! THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YALL

In the kitchen, he set the bulging plastic bags down on the counter. He hadn't spent quite enough time in this part of the house to know where everything went, but he figured he'd try his best, knowing that Alex was hardly the picture of organization. He put away a couple cans of soup and some TV dinners, but then found that the other bag didn't hold groceries at all. Inside was a bottle of fizzing water, a couple boxes of crackers, and some of those awful pink tablets he remembered all-too-well from his own childhood. He smiled. Even if he was a bit late, he couldn't say that Alex hadn't come prepared. And worried, from the looks of it. 

At the bottom of the bag was a crumpled pamphlet. John fished it out and flattened it on the table.  _Seasonal Flus and Caring for Your Child._ John almost laughed imagining someone old pharmacist handing this to his frazzled boyfriend at the store. God, he never knew what he was doing. 

But he was trying. John heard his voice carrying over from Philip's bedroom, trying to be as gentle as he could with his sick boy. John could make out the guilt that came with it. 

Deciding to make himself useful, he turned to the cupboard and pulled out a box of pasta. He filled a pot up with water, lit the stove, and set it on the burner. Philip probably wouldn't be very hungry, but he knew that Alex had a tendency to skip meals when he was stressed out. And a sick kid definitely warranted some mental stress. 

He heard footsteps in the short hallway and looked up from the food. 

"Hey," he said again to Alex, smiling as he tore open the box of noodles, sensing the tension. 

His boyfriend groaned. 

"You don't need to do that," he said, coming over to shoo John away from the stove, "you've been here all day. Let me cook for you."

"Yeah, but not at work," argued John, somewhat teasingly, "and besides, if I let you do the cooking, Pip won't be the only one hulled up over the basin."

"God, I'm sorry," said Alex, ignoring the light-hearted blow to his pride at the mention of his son, "I didn't know-"

"Relax, babe. I don't mind. I just hate to see the kid so miserable, that's all."

"Was he sick all day?"

"On and off. When he wasn't puking he was conked out on the couch."

"He felt kinda hot to me, did he feel hot to you?" 

"Uh, yeah, kinda, but not, like, crazy-"

"Has he been going to the bathroom? Because you know kids get dehydrated like really fast and I always forget to-"

Alex was working himself up into a panic. John reached out and grabbed his arm. 

"I've made sure he's been drinking water, don't worry. Like you said, he's a kid. Kids get sick all the time, you know? All you gotta do is wait it out."

Alex sighed. 

"I just- I was never as good at this stuff as Eliza. I just want him to be okay."

John laughed, but squeezed his hand. 

"Alex, it's the stomach flu. He's fine, you're fine. It's all gonna be alright, okay?"

There was a pause. Alex looked away sheepishly. 

"'Kay."

"Okay. This isn't anything you can't handle. Go put him to bed and bring him some of that crap you bought, okay? I'm handling dinner tonight."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but John cut him off before he even have the chance. 

"Go."

* * *

 

The task of putting Philip to bed was much quicker than usual. There was no little fight, no "I'm not tired"s, no nothing. Just a sick little boy who wanted to sleep it all away. John kept the food covered while Alex sat beside Pip's bed, rubbing his back and staying quiet until his son fell asleep. 

Despite only being home for a little over an hour, he came to the table looking exhausted. 

"What a hell of a day," he said, accepting a can of beer from John.

"I'll drink to that."


	5. Chapter 5

Not even five minutes after they were done at the table, Alex and John had retired to bed, leaving their dirty dishes beside the sink to be cleaned the next day. Alex would be working from home them, so there would be plenty of time to put everything back in order, as well as take care of Philip. 

He pulled an old sweatshirt over his head and rolled into bed, sighing into the pillows. John chuckled, cast of his own shirt, and joined his boyfriend beneath the covers. The clean linens felt so nice against his skin after having a sweaty, sticky little kid cling to him all day. Come to think of it, he was probably still gross, but showering could wait until morning. Besides, Alex hardly seemed to mind. 

"You're a goddamn angel, you know that?" he asked, nuzzling jokingly against John's shoulder, the effect ruined slightly by his fatigue, "a fucking  _godsend."_

John snorted, pulling Alex close and closing his eyes. 

"Sure," he said tiredly. 

It wasn't that he minded the flattery or anything. He was just so. Fucking. Tired. 

Alex scoffed. 

"I'm serious!"

"If you're serious, you'll let me go to sleep in a proper bed," he teased, bemused, "that's what we all need."

"Think Pip'll sleep through the night?" 

It had been a while since Alex had put the boy to bed and so far, so good. 

"A man can dream."

* * *

By the time morning came, John was lucky to have made it through the night without waking. Alex had left bed sometime around one in the morning to help Philip in the bathroom and put him back to sleep, only to be woken up an hour later to clean vomit off of Philip's bedroom floor. When he finally got back to his own bed, he fell asleep on top of the covers and still ended up getting up before John at a quarter til 6:00, as was his custom. 

When John got up, he slumped over the kitchen table, staring at his laptop with bloodshot eyes, stealing the occasional glance toward's his son's bedroom door. 

"Rough night?" asked John as he stepped into the kitchen, bending down to kiss the top of Alex's head. 

Alex let out a throaty laugh. 

"Oh, he's got it bad. And I don't know how to make it better."

"Awe," John teased, "look at you, Mr. Caring Dad, all worried." 

Alex batted him away, only barely amused. 

"Shuttap," he said, "I _am_ worried! I'm in uncharted territory!"

"Well, if I can do it, you sure as hell can."

A snort. 

"You've got me there."

Sensing that Alex was too tired for banter, John settled for stealing a sip of his coffee and planting another kiss on his cheek. 

"Okay if I take a shower?"

"Uh-huh," said Alexander, turning back to his laptop as John made his way to the bathroom, "oh - but do me a favor? Would you keep the door unlocked?"

John furrowed his eyebrows.

"Sure?"

"You know, in case Pip wakes up and needs... it?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah. 'Course," he said, though he prayed to whatever higher power might have existed that it wouldn't come to that. 

He wanted Pip to feel better, of course, but he also couldn't help but want to start his day without the noises that accompanied the stomach flu. It was too damn early, that was all.

He stood under the hot water with his eyes closed, letting the sweat and dirt run down his legs and into the drain. Despite the night of sleep he had gotten, his mind felt cloudy. He was still tired. Perhaps it was just the stress. Maybe he'd feel better once he was got some time to himself, even if was only during his short drive to campus. 

After washing his hair and savoring a few moments' worth of relative peace, John shut off the water and stepped out onto the bathroom floor. He didn't particularly feel like getting ready for class, but he supposed it wouldn't be so hard. He just needed to shut up, listen, and get on with it. 

Groggy as he felt, he took his time getting ready. Alexander might have been able to forgo a morning shave, but not John. He tied his hair back in a loose ponytail and lathered up his face.

He was grateful that he got to finish his routine in peace. When he stepped out of the bathroom, it appeared that Philip was still asleep.  John checked his watch. It was half passed nine. The kid must have been exhausted from being sick all night, he thought. He never knew Pip to sleep that late!

As if by the mere thought of the name, John heard the click of the door just down the hall being pushed open. There was Philip, dressed in wrinkled pajamas, eyes red, and hair plastered to his face with sweat. 

"How're you feeling, kid?" he asked, though he hardly needed to. 

To little surprise, Philip shrugged his shoulders. Alexander swooped up behind him, picking him up from under the arms and holding him on his hip.

"You're havin' a hard time, aren't you, bud?" 

A nod.

The bags under Alexander's eyes and his messier-than-usual hair suggested that they both were having a hard time, but John didn't say anything about that. Instead, he gave a sympathetic grimace and strode over to the table to retrieve his keys. 

"Good thing you've got today to take off, huh? Get some rest?"

Philip didn't answer, his sleepy eyes fixed on John's keys. 

"Where're you going?" he asked, voice sad and quiet, making John feel instantly guilty. 

Alexander repositioned him in his arms. 

"John's gotta go to class, hon, he can't stick around all the time."

"Oh."

The kid sounded miserable. It was probably just because he was so sick and tired, but John's insides squirmed. He didn't like disappointing Pip.

"But I'll be back in the afternoon, okay? And if you're feeling up to it, you can show me  _any cartoon you want."_

Philip giggled a little. 

"So start thinking about it, okay?"

He came over and gave Alexander a quick kiss on the cheek.

"'Kay."

He smiled on his way out the door. The bad never lasted that long with the Hamiltons. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Getting on with it" wasn't quite as easy as John had anticipated. Despite the hours of sleep he had gotten during the night, he was still trying to shake his exhaustion as he dragged himself to school. He slumped into a seat, dumping his stuff in the one beside him. He had been planning on finishing his reading yesterday at Alex's house, but things certainly hadn't gone as planned. His books had sat abandoned on the front table since the previous morning, which meant he'd surely be behind during the lecture. 

Great. 

Really, how hard was it? He only had three classes a week - how had he not been able to manage fifty pages of reading?

He groaned, putting his foot on the seat in front of him and zipping his jacket up. Maybe he could disappear behind the soft folds of fabric. 

For three long hours, he remained seated, notepad on his knee and chin resting on his chest. It was sympathy fatigue, he joked to himself. He imagined Alex and Pip sluggish at home, draped over the couch, unwilling - or unable - to move an inch. 

A part of him wished he hadn't promised to go back there after class. As sweet as Philip was, John would have liked nothing better than to drive to his own apartment and pass out into a long, interrupted sleep. 

But a promise was a promise, and damned if he was going to disappoint a sick little kid just because he was feeling cranky. Besides, Alex would probably want to review his notes about trial advocacy as soon as humanly possible. 

John straightened a little. Two more hours. He had to do a good job for Alex. After spending a day all cooped up and cleaning up sick, he deserved a run-through of the day's lecture, even if John found it tremendously boring. 

Throwing himself into his work, too, would help pull him from his fog, right?

Of course, life was never that kind.  

For the rest of the class, he struggled to follow his Professor's words, jotting down notes that were vague and rushed. His cheeks felt hot. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was looking over his shoulder, smirking at his shortcomings. Part of him wondered if he was getting sick. 

No,  _no,_ another part of him ensured. He wasn't coming down with whatever terrible flu he had seen Philip deal with all yesterday. He was just stressed out - who wouldn't be with school and work and all this "boyfriend-and-his-kid" stuff?

Nonetheless, there was a slight pounding in his head that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. He prayed for the end of class to come, feeling his stomach fill with relief when he glanced at his phone. So close. 

Thinking of Alex, he remained in the room while other students asked questions, hoping that they would fill in the gaps caused by the fact that he hadn't done the reading. On the way out, he snagged an assignment sheet for his next paper, groaning internally. Thankfully, it wasn't due for another two weeks. 

The drive back to the Hamiltons' wasn't too bad - only a little long, like always. He stopped on his way through town to pick up a couple sandwiches (he knew Alex probably wasn't doing a very good job of feeding himself.)

When he opened the door, he wasn't overwhelmed with with shouts of greeting, only a cursory "hey" from Alex, who sat beside Philip on the couch, computer open in his lap. 

John shrugged off his jacket and threw his back down. Philip waved shyly from underneath a blanket, eyes wavering momentarily from the TV. There was a lined waste basket in from of him, which suggested to John that last night _hadn't_  been the end of this unfortunate illness. 

Regardless, he smiled, toeing of his shoes. 

"Brought you lunch," he said to Alex, waving the bag with the sandwiches inside. 

"You didn't have to do that," said Alex, looking up guiltily from his work, as though he didn't expect this gesture.

John rolled his eyes, coming over to sit down on the couch between him and Pip. 

"I know," he said tiredly, reaching into the bag and handing Alex his food, "I'm just that nice." 

Alex accepted, putting his computer aside and unwrapping the sandwich. 

"How was class?" 

John took a bite of his own food and shrugged. 

"Eh."

Beside him, Pip leaned forward and looked at his father with pleading eyes. Alex seemed to know what he was asking without him saying anything at all. 

"Honey, you won't be able to keep it down," he sighed, "do you want more crackers?"

At once, John felt guilty. Philip, on the other hand, only pouted slightly and nodded. 

Heaving an even bigger - though joking - sigh, Alex rose from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. John set his food down and turned to the boy beside him.

"Have you thought about what we're gonna watch?"

Pip brightened, nodding his head. 

"Uh-huh."

From beside him, he pulled a stack of old and cracked dvds, shuffling through until he found the one that he was looking for. He held it out for John to see. 

"The Little Mermaid!" John exclaimed, taking the movie from him, "oh, man, I haven't seen this one in  _years!"_

Pip giggled weakly as Alexander reentered the room, carrying a little plastic bowl. He caught sight of the dvd and chuckled.

"Movie time, huh?" 

"Yeah," said John, tossing it to him and reclining against the cushions, "put it in!"

Nevermind that he knew perfectly well how to work the archaic dvd-player - he was tired and deserved to be a little annoying. Alex rolled his eyes, but set up the movie non the less, feigning great offense when he turned back to the couch to see his son snuggling up to John. 

"I see how it is," he muttered playfully over the sound of the blu-rey commercial, "John comes home and suddenly I'm chopped liver." 

John blew a raspberry at him, earning him a swat on the shoulder. He let Philip lean into his side, nestled safely underneath his arm. Alex was still close enough that John could rest his head on his shoulder. Cramped as it was on that little couch, he welcomed the comfortable quiet that came with it. Despite the continuous ache in his temple, he allowed himself to fully relax for the first time in two days, something that did not go unappreciated. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy this disgusting chapter sorry for being a disappointment love y'all
> 
> (warning i guess for mention of bodily illness - i tried to make it non-graphic but??)

The next couple of hours were a welcome window of calm. Sluggish as he was, John kept Pip in his lap - or else sandwiched snugly between him and Alex - for the duration of  _the Little Mermaid._ They had initially just planned on one movie, but after a glassy look from Philip's pink face and an exaggerated groan from John, one somehow turned into three. 

While he was never one to complain while they were watching, he couldn't help but rejoice silently when Alex shut off the T.V. and declared it was time for Philip to take a bath. There was little argument from the boy; apparently, five was old enough to appreciate getting warm and clean. John might have envied him the hot water, but was beyond content to stretch out all the way on the couch, arching his back while Alex lifted Pip into his arms. 

"You're still gonna be here when I come out, right?" asked Philip over his father's shoulder, chin lifted. 

John smiled lazily, giving him a thumbs up.

"You got it kid; I ain't goin' anywhere."

He closed his eyes, pushing deeper into the couch cushions. They were a little scratchy against his face, but the chance to rest ( _really_ rest) was far more important. His minor headache had escalated into something worse, and his stomach felt unusually tight. Again, that annoying little voice in his head tried to pipe up and suggest that he might be getting ill, but John was having none of it. 

He burrowed underneath the sagging pillows, blocking out the little bit of light that has worked its way into the room from the hallway. With a great sigh that no one was around to hear, John finally let his eyes droop shut. He was asleep in a matter of seconds. 

It wasn't the solid, no-dreams kind of sleep, but it would do. He couldn't bring himself to even open his eyes when he heard the disjointed voices of above him.

"-tired out, just like you.... needs to rest."

He felt a brief gush of gratitude that he would forget the next minute, when a complete quiet fell over the house. Alex putting Pip to bed. The quiet was nice, but the sleep was fitful. He felt like he was fighting his own body to stay under.  

Alex was no help when, at some point, he knelt down beside him and shook him awake. The gentle prods to John's shoulder were far from welcome despite their intent; John pried his eyes open unhappily. 

"Hmm?" he grunted tiredly, tried to hide his face in the crook of his arm. 

"How about we get you in a real bed, huh?" 

It took a lot to overcome his fatigue, but the prospect of blankets (and, inevitably, cuddles from Alex) was too good to resist. Groaning deeply, John heaved himself up from the couch, allowing Alex to take him into the bedroom. His first instinct was to flop down face-first on the bed, but Alex held him back. 

"Why don't we lose the jeans, hon," he said, the amusement evident in his voice. 

John made a petulant noise, but let Alex undo the button on his pants and help him step out. Clad only in boxers and a t-shirt (his sweatshirt from earlier long discarded), he climbed into bed, burrowing deep under the covers as Alex changed into his own pajamas. He slipped into bed beside John and wriggled close. 

He whispered something nice, but John didn't really hear it. He let out a little sigh of contentment, however, when he felt Alex's fingers on his hips, moving slowly beneath his shirt and towards his navel and back again. His hands were cold and calloused, but John welcomed the feeling. 

He mumbled something by means of thanks, half-smiling to himself when Alex kept his hand moving for the moments of still quiet that followed. 

* * *

 

It was still still and quiet when John woke up. Dark, too. Alex's sleeping body pressed into his. Mind clouded with sleep and confusion, head throbbing, John shifted, trying to identify the reason why he was awake. 

It came to him in nearly an instant in the form of a very sudden, very urgent pressure in the pit of his stomach. He felt his entire body start to sweat. The blankets on top of him were no longer a comfort, but a restraint. 

He pushed them off roughly, stumbling to get himself out of bed and to the bathroom, a sad, panicked mantra going strong in his head. 

_Please no, please don't let me, please no, please no, please no-_

He _couldn't._ He _wasn't._ He wasn't going to succumb to sickness when Pip had already been so miserable. He wasn't going to do anything so disgusting in Alex's house. He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't, he _couldn't._

His body wasn't listening. 

He could barely bring himself to care that he only managed to push the bathroom door half-closed when he was clamoring to get to the toilet. His stomach gave way the second he was seated, and he could feel it convulse beneath his hands. Hell, he could  _hear_ it, even over the unwelcome noises escaping his lower half. He tried desperately to be quiet, but it was a losing battle. 

There wasn't time to be properly disgusted with himself. Before he was even capable of standing back up, he could feel bile rising in his throat, anxiety coming up along with it. He couldn't throw up there, there wasn't even a wastebasket or  _anything,_ but yet, there was nothing he could do to stop it even though  _Alex was going to be so mad at him._

The sound of him vomiting over his knees was obstructed by a half-sob from John, partially from humiliation, partially from fear. He didn't know how he was going to explain this, how he was going to make this better. 

He was still throwing up when the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Alexander, face contorted in what had to be disgust. Taking care of a sick little kid was one thing, but a grown-ass man was quiet another.

John bowed his head in shame, the deep flush on his face competing with the sickly paleness.

"Sorry," he said, closing his eyes to avoid the sick on the floor or the look on his boyfriend's face, "m'sorry, go back to bed-"

He swallowed thickly, knowing that round two was on its way but praying that Alex wouldn't have to witness it. 

"-I'll clean it up, I promise, just-"

He gagged on whatever the next word was going to be. In a flash, Alex was lunging forward, snatching a rubber bin from behind the shower curtain and shoving it beneath John's face. John gripped the sides of it for dear life, everything he had eaten in the last twenty-four making a violent reappearance. He barely registered Alex's gentle hand on the back of his neck until he was finished. 

"M'sorry," he said weakly when Alex took the bin away, rubbing down his shoulder.

"It's alright, John," he replied softly, "I've seen it all before, you know? I've got you."

Even though he knew he didn't deserve it, John found himself nodding, leaning into Alex's touch.

_"I've got you."_


	8. Chapter 8

Alex stayed there with him for the long minutes that followed, blatantly ignoring John’s feeble protests. Though he’d sooner die than admit it out loud, John was grateful for the company and the comfort that came with it. Miserable as he felt, the sound of Alex’s voice and the soft touch of his hands soothed him in his sick state. 

Of course, it wasn’t soothing to the point that he forgot the shame of being violently ill in front of his boyfriend. That was something he supposed he would never get used to, and prayed that he would never have the need. 

For the time being, however, Alex was being uncharacteristically gentle with him. While John knew the other man to tease him about hangovers and the like, this stupid flu seemed to have brought out another side of him - perhaps the same one that came out to care for Philip. 

John let out a ragged breath when his most recent episode seemed to subside. He lifted a shaking arm to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand as Alex pulled his hair back into a sloppy ponytail for him. They’d repositioned by now, moved so that John was now on his knees, crouched in front of the toilet. He wasn’t feeling much better, but at least he had gotten to spare a shred of his pride. 

He seemed to have caught a break, if only short lived. His stomach still rolled and squeezed unpleasantly, but it no longer threatened to embarrass him in the way it had been for the last half hour. Alex seemed to notice, and patted him on the shoulder accordingly. 

“Done for now?” he asked quietly, rubbing gently just above John’s collarbone. 

John withheld a shudder.  _ For now.  _ He prayed to God there wouldn’t be a follow-up episode. Of course, when had things ever been known to work out like that?

He swallowed and nodded weakly.

“Think so.”

Sick and limp as he was, John still had the sense to mentally reprimand himself for acting so pathetic. He cleared his throat, pushed away from the toilet, and tried again.

“Yeah,”he confirmed, more gruffly this time, “m’good.”

If Alex noticed anything strange about this, he didn't mention it, only reached forward to flush the toilet, do away with what little bile John had managed to bring up last time. He touched his boyfriend gently under the arms, helping him up to his feet. 

"Clean off," he prompted, "I'll grab you some water and then you can lay back down."

John seemed to shrink in on himself at the suggestion. 

"I- I think I should just stay here," he said, almost under his breath, far too sheepishly for a grown man. 

Alex quirked an eyebrow.

"All night? Honey, you need to rest."

John shook his head, looking down at his feet. He was being childish beyond belief, but he couldn't help it. 

"I don't wanna, uh- I don't wanna get sick on any of your stuff."

The admission brought an additional flush to his cheeks. It was dumb, it was embarrassing, and yet he could remember being snapped at far too many times for soiling his sheets or bedroom carpet as a boy for him to want to risk it happening again. 

"John, I'm pretty sure my kid has puked on you  _multiple times_ in the last two days. You don't need to worry about anything like that."

John opened his mouth to argue, but Alex talked right over him. 

"And  _besides,"_ he soothed, "we've got a perfectly good trash can for you to use."

John looked up and blushed, but Alex didn't laugh.

"And you've got perfectly functional  _legs_ to bring you back here if you need," he added, only teasing a little, "it'll all be alright, I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," John agreed reluctantly.

"Wash up, then," Alex instructed again, "and then you can come back to bed."

He padded out of the bathroom, leaving John alone at the sink. Tired as he was, he spent far longer than what was necessary letting the cool water run over his knuckles. Even the skin on his hands was flushed and warm. As he cleaned off, he avoided his reflection in the mirror, tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous, to just get it together, that it would be okay.

It would be okay.

He shut off the water, dried his hands, and wiped his mouth on his wrist. He could still taste the sour of his own sick.

Slowly, he crept down the short hallway and into Alex's room, where his boyfriend was already seated on his side of the bed. As promised, there was a wastebasket set in front of John's bedside table, ready for him if he should happen to be sick again during the night. 

Alex handed him a glass of water.

"Drink a little of this for me."

John did as he was told, grateful for the chance to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. 

He handed it back to Alex when he was done, who set it on the nightstand before pulling him gently up onto the mattress. He pulled the comforter over both of them. It had grown cool since they'd gotten up, and was soft and light against their skin. Alex held John loosely in his arms, fingers trailing lightly over his belly once again. This time, however, John's stomach groaned and gurgled beneath Alex' gentle touch, causing him to tense all over.

He squirmed where he lay, trying to will it to stop. 

 _"Alex-"_ he said under his breath, partially out of fear and partially out of shame.

"You're alright, John," Alex whispered to him, pressing a kiss into the base of his neck, "try and lay still." 

John did, and the feeling passed in a matter of moments. His anxiety, however, did not. Alex sensed his stress. 

"Just worry about getting to sleep," he said, "I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay," John breathed, worried that anything louder would disrupt the fragile stability they had found there in the dark, "you won't let go, though, right?" 

Alex half-chuckled into his hair. 

"I won't let go. Now, go to sleep, Laurens."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... it only took a fuckin MONTH for me to put this out there... I tried to add a little bit of John angst, although I'm not sure if it really worked... anyway! There's probably about two more chapters left to go, with more Pip to come, if you were worried. Thanks for sticking with this thing, even if I'm terrible at updating. :)
> 
> Also, if you have any requests or suggestions, I BEG YOU - leave them here! I'd love to write for them!! <3


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